


Under the weather

by random_firework



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Dementia, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hunter Retirement, M/M, Old Dean Winchester, Old Sam Winchester, Post-Season/Series 12, Post-Series, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9007327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_firework/pseuds/random_firework
Summary: Sam and Dean end up sitting on the hood of their old car on Christmas Eve, without any present to offer to each other. They're beyond that now. Way beyond that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wincest Writing Challenge of December 2016. This month theme was "Holidays" and my prompt was "presents".
> 
> The title comes from the title of a song by Chris Young who fits this fan fiction perfectly, I think. Another one I listened to while writing this is Still Falling for You by Ellie Goulding. And since we're on the topic of music, the music Sam is hearing is Canon in D, composed by Johann Pachelbel.
> 
> Enjoy and have a merry Christmas!

Sam couldn’t figure out where the notes were coming from. They seemed to echo everywhere around him and in him. It could have make him go crazy – it _would have_ a decade ago – but he found peace in the twirling melody that seemed to make the snowflakes fall and dance at its rhythm. From where he was sitting, on the hood of the Impala, parked in front of their motel room, the world looked almost right. 

“Sammy, come back in, you gonna freeze to death.”

Sam murmured that he was okay. Whether or not Dean heard him did not matter, as he would eventually come back with mittens, a beanie and probably a portative heating device in 3, 2, 1…

“I’m not going to let you die from a cold after everything we’ve been through!” Dean muttered, putting a blanket around Sam’s shoulders. 

Sam rolled his eyes. He was almost 50, yet Dean mothered him even more than when he was a child. It could seem like a strange behavior to normal people, even to hunters, but it felt natural to them. And Sam couldn’t say he didn’t like it. It wasn’t that they cared about each other more than before, which wouldn’t be possible anyway, but rather that they showed and talked about it more. They had both progressively learned, after decades of living in the silent fear of losing each other, that there was no point in pretending. Dean still stiffened sometimes, when Sam tried to take care of him. But other times, he was relaxed enough to let his brother help him. This night was one of these. Sam had managed to bake him a rather good pie for the Christmas Eve dinner and even give him a massage, as his shoulders started to tense when it was getting cold. 

Sam glanced at his brother, who had sat next to him, but Dean seemed to be lost deep in his thoughts. They stayed quiet until he asked:

“That’s Pachelbel?”

“You hear it too?”

Dean tilted his head to look at him straight in the eyes so Sam knew he wasn’t lying to protect him. “I do.”

Sam smiled, a little relieved. It wasn’t much but it happened from time to time. Sometimes, he heard things that weren’t really there, may it be music, laughter or cries. It never lasted long and Dean was there to keep him grounded so, for now, Sam could easily deal with it. Maybe someday they’d have to do something about it, but not tonight.

The music came to an end. Before his brother could even open his mouth, Sam stated: “No, Dean, I’m not cold.”

Dean bit his lips which were stretching to form a smile on his face and nodded. 

They both had their quirks, after all these years; Sam and his hallucinations, Dean and his pampering habits. They were getting old, especially for hunters, but they lived it well and it wasn’t all bad. Another feature that had appeared over the years was their synchronization. They could tell what was on the other’s mind without thinking about it. It had become pure instinct. It helped that they often found themselves thinking the same thing. Right at this moment, for example.

“Do you want me to say it? Or you want to say it first?” Sam asked. 

Dean grinned and shook his head. “Okay, I’ll say it...I don’t have a gift for you.”

“I don’t have a gift for you,” Sam repeated in a laugh. 

His brother looked at him. His smile made the crinkles at the corner of his eyes more visible and his iris seemed even greener than usual because of the snow. Sam fell under Dean’s charm for the billionth time in his life. 

“I don’t know…I just didn’t know what to get you.”

Sam nodded. He understood. He had pondered for a while what to offer to Dean but he had come out with absolutely nothing. As for him, there was nothing he wanted. It seemed pointless, after all they had been through, to give each other more or less meaningless things they would forget about a month later. They were beyond that now.

“You’re here,” Sam said, more for himself than for his brother. He clarified his thought when Dean threw him an inquisitive look. “I don’t really need anything more than that.” 

Dean held his gaze. These looks they shared weren’t new. It had begun long before Sam could even understand what they meant. It was only recently that he had finally admitted to himself that siblings were not supposed to look at each other like that. He presumed that Dean had understood that too, probably sooner than him. It didn’t seem to disturb him. It didn’t bother Sam either. It was just who they were. And would he like for things to go further? Maybe, yes. But he was also perfectly happy like that. 

Dean was the first to look away. He stared at the pine trees across the motel parking lot, a simper on his face, then sighed, like he couldn’t believe it: “Look at us, we look and talk like an old married couple.”

Sam frowned. “You hate when people say that.”

Dean shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true, Sam…I mean, we’re not quite there obviously but uh-” He cut himself off with a short, nervous laughter then looked up at the sky. He took a deep breath before carrying on. “I was thinking ‘bout that earlier…Maybe it would be nice to spend next Christmas in a real house. We could have our own tree, make a fire to keep us warm. And I don’t mean just for Christmas, you know? We could stay there. Live there. You and me.”

Sam didn’t try to hide his grin. Yes, he was perfectly happy with his life. But he would lie if he said he hadn’t hoped this would happen someday. He had also always been sure, deep in his heart, that it was bound to happen, but he never thought it would be so soon, on a Christmas Eve, sitting on their old car. 

“What about hunting?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on Sam, you and I both know we’re barely hunting anymore.” 

It was true. The last year, they had done an average of two hunts per month, maybe. They had put that on the fact they they needed more rest now that they were getting old. It was part of the explanation, of course, but there was something more. At first, Sam was worried it would bear down on Dean but he seemed to be doing just fine, adapting to this odd domestic situation. He even seemed to _like_ their weekly Scrabble game before going to bed on Sunday nights.

“We’ll go hunting on holidays. Deal with whatever is in the neighborhood and let the kids deal with the other crap. I’m not blind, Sam-”

Sam snickered as discreetly as he could. Dean wasn’t blind but he sure as hell needed the glasses they had bought the other day.

“Yeah, okay, alright, laugh all you want. My point is that we’re getting old. My joints keep cracking during winter, your hearing is frankly not as good as it used to be…We can’t do the job properly anymore, it’s getting too dangerous and I don’t want to lose you in a stupid salt and burn.”

“Aren’t you gonna miss it?”

“You said it yourself, Sam. You’re here. I don’t really need anything more.”

Dean made a snowball and threw it at the trees in front of them, glancing at Sam from time to time, as Sam just stared at him. He still wondered what he had done to deserve a brother, a soulmate, like Dean. Dean with his good looks, his wit, his smartness. Dean, whom he had lost time and time again but had always found his way back to. Dean who had been through Hell and back, still gentle and now so open with Sam. His brother, his everything. 

“So, this is it. My Christmas present for both of us.” Dean turned his head to look at Sam. “Whaddya say Sammy? Ready to take a chance on me?”

“You know I am. Always.”

Dean beamed at him and reached out to stroke his cheek, lightly. Time seemed to slow down. Sam saw it in his brother’s intent look and felt it in his guts. It was going to happen. Dean slipped his hand behind his neck to pull him closer. 

“I fucking love you, you know that?” he murmured against his lips, still smiling. 

“I know. I love you too.”

Dean pressed his mouth against his and if Sam thought they were perfectly in sync before, he should have waited for that. As soon as their lips connected, it was as if he and his brother were finally one, like it was meant to be. He could feel Dean’s serenity pass through him and meet his own ardor; hear their heart beating in unison and blood rushing through their veins. Dean was everywhere around him, in him. 

They both reluctantly pulled back, after seconds, minutes of kissing – it could have been hours and Sam wouldn’t have noticed – and looked at each other. They didn’t need words to express their happiness, already betrayed by their giggles.

“Best present I could get,” Sam said.

Dean grasped his coat to pull him back close to him and let their foreheads rest against each other. 

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! <3  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


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